Head (Arlington) at the turn, hardly at all.

JOHN H. RAYMOND
1865

The driver ushered me in at the old lower entrance, and, as a matter of course, gathered up my hand-baggage and preceded me up the central stairway to the messenger room. This would be an unusual proceeding to-day, but was most friendly and grateful then in the strange place. My handbag had a defective lock with a trick of unexpectedly flying open, and I recall its unhappy click, click, as I nervously followed him up the stairs. My name was given to be sent to Miss Lyman, whom I awaited, very ill at ease, in the parlor. Soon a tall figure appeared in black silk dress, white fleecy shawl, white hair in curls under black lace cap, both hands extended in smiling greeting as if an old friend had arrived. "We have been looking for you all day, and had just begun to fear we must give you up for to-night." A relative could hardly have been received more cordially, or with more entire absence of inspection.

I had been summoned in midyear to fill a sudden vacancy in the music department, the preliminary formalities having been waived somehow in my case, and I was not looking to be received so perfectly as a welcome guest of honor. Needless to say, all misgivings vanished and I felt at home at once. A teacher with whom I had been associated elsewhere was sent for to take me to my room, supper ordered served there, teachers rooming in the same corridor came to greet the newcomer, and the evening that promised to be forlorn and dreary changed into a gay reception with friendly warmth and good cheer. Professor Wiebe, in whose department I was to teach, lived in the north wing near my room, and soon presented himself with his wife to welcome me. Madame Wiebe also taught in the department—was a musician herself of no mean ability. Really, it seems as I live it all over that the sunshiny outlook has never dimmed.

EDWARD WIEBE
1865

The next day, Washington's Birthday, was a holiday, and opportunity given to inspect the grounds and building. A narrow gravel path each side of the avenue led up from the lodge—the one old landmark exactly the same as now. Evergreens, so small one could almost touch the tops with the hand, bordered those paths. The first catalogue contained an engraving of these walks and front of the building, and a framed copy of one with photographs of that year is preserved in the library.

What we know as the museum was then the riding school with a German nobleman in charge, and groups of his pupils might be seen every pleasant day, riding around the great circle laid out for the purpose beyond the flower garden. Parties of more advanced riders were taken by the Baron outside the grounds, to the envy of the less skilled. The experiment of the riding school proved too expensive with its horses, grooms and master, and had at the end of six years to be given up.

The observatory was the only other building outside (with the exception of the boiler and engine house), and a gravel walk led up to its doors also. There were none but soft paths and few of these anywhere at that time. Later, an unsightly wooden walk replaced the gravel ones from the lodge to the front entrance. It was several years after this that the flagging was laid, and asphalt pavement here and there around the grounds begun.

The museum collections at the beginning were all in the main building, some occupying the space of the fifth center corridor, and it was in this long gallery that I had my first meeting with the Founder. I had gone one day by myself to wander about looking at specimens of minerals when the door opened and a benevolent white haired old gentleman entered. There was no mistaking the man of the portrait with his old time dress,—ruffled shirt front, diamond pin and wonderfully kind expression—and I went forward to pay my homage. He seemed familiar with the collections, pointing out whatever was especially valuable and curious as we walked around together. "I often come up here to see these," he said smilingly. He gave a reception at his house in town that second year for the Faculty and teachers of the college to meet the trustees and friends of his living in town, and I recall a delightful, genial host who made us all feel as if we belonged to him—were a part of his family.

On the fourth corridor—the whole west front below, was the art-gallery with Professor Van Ingen as director. The library was under this in the center of the third corridor, more like a room of the kind in a gentleman's house, and conducted somewhat in the same delightful free and easy fashion. Newspapers and periodicals were in this room also, open for daily use, but books could be drawn only at recreation period, Wednesday and Saturday, though they might be returned whenever the library was open. In a college community the library is destined to be an important factor, feeding the whole group of departments, and it is not hard to see how the small beginning here should go on by leaps and bounds, keeping pace with the wonderful growth in other directions, till it reached the stately structure which is its home to-day.

The first organ to be placed in the chapel had no case. Instead, there was an arrangement of heavy red curtains across the back of the platform, with the large portrait of the Founder in front, concealing all unsightliness. The music rooms were back of the organ, on the third and fourth floors used now by the steward's department. Professor Wiebe had his large classroom and office on the upper floor and there were held the departmental meetings. Access to these rooms was through the doors each side of the chapel platform and through the small doors at the farther end of the gallery. The office where the music supplies were stored and given out was in the little room opening from the south end of the platform. The conservatory method obtained at first, the ensemble playing being conducted in the museum, in a large room near the gymnasium, capable of holding the several pianos necessary.

Professor Mitchell had her classroom at the observatory, but with that exception all other recitations were in the one main building, in the center each side of the main entrance. The President's classroom adjoined his office, now the senior parlor. In 1865, Room J was Dr. Avery's recitation room, and later was famous as the English literature and logic classroom in the day of Professor Backus. This is now the officers' parlor. There was no students' room for dancing. This was done at the gymnasium sometimes in the evenings, permission to go over first having to be obtained.

On the first corridor, where are now the stationery department, offices of the superintendent and resident physician, were three connecting rooms assigned to the chemistry department,—laboratory, classroom and lecture room. Across the corridor to the east where the express office and janitor's office are now were the two rooms of physics, a large classroom with smaller one adjoining for the apparatus. Dr. Avery had her office in her private suite on the fourth south, with the infirmary in near proximity at the other end of the hall. Mr. Wheeler, the first janitor, who was on the college ground from the time the first spadeful of earth was dug up for the building, had for his office the small room close by the center stairway on the first corridor.

CHARLES S. FARRAR
1865

Professor Farrar's chemistry and physics courses were extremely popular, and days when special experiments